Coming Down
by whitewingedalbatross
Summary: It's all coming down, now...and although we have no words left on our lips, I know just what you're saying... Slash, RLSB, MWPP era.


**A/N: I don't own it. Not my blah blah blah...**

**-XXX-**

**Coming Down**

**-XXX-**

The thunder outside is causing the small hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and the flashes of lightning through the window are torturing my already sensitive eyes. Even though the windows are all closed and sealed tight, a chill from the rain is seeping through the room and I shiver slightly, rubbing my arms in a pathetic attempt to rid them of the goosebumps that have sprung up along my skin.

I'm sure you've noticed my discomfort by now - why else would you be looking at me like _that_ from across the room? I pretend I don't notice; after all, being the studious person I am, I should be able to keep my thoughts focused on the History of Magic essay currently sitting on my lap, instead of the maelstrom presently pouring down outside…but that's easier said than done, I'm afraid.

A particularly loud clap of thunder makes me flinch violently, my shoulders hunching and my eyes squeezing shut of their own accord; my quill drops from my quivering fingers and lands silently on the edge of the rug protruding from under my bed.

Moments later, I hear a soft rustle of fabric and feel the sheets beneath me shift slowly to my right. A warm hand comes to rest on my shoulder, and I open my amber eyes slowly to be met with your cool obsidian gaze. A small, almost sad smile plays about your lips, and your raise your other hand, which holds my discarded quill, and extend it to me. I nod my head in a silent thanks and slide the feather out of your grip, laying it down on the bed beside the parchment of my unfinished essay.

A slight nod of your head in return and you've looked away again, the smile disappearing from your smooth lips as you turn your somber gaze to the downpour just beyond the windowpanes.

What to do with you, Sirius Black? The animal in you hates such murky weather as much as the beast in me hates it's confinement from the world behind the bars of my mind. You need to run wild - I see it on your face; such weather traps you here with me and your spirit longs for it's freedom.

Your hand drops from my shoulder, brushing fingertips down my chest as it descends to your side and I sigh, almost woefully, dropping my head to stare blankly at the words I've scrawled across my page. It seems this weather has slowed my brain for my movements are sluggish and lethargic; my usually impeccable handwriting is now scribbled and indecipherable on the paper and my things are strewn around my bed and falling out of my trunk.

You look up at me, the sharp movement breaking me from my thoughts, and you raise your hand again to tilt my face back to level with yours. There's a question in your eyes that I try not to answer in my gaze; you're trying, once again, to break down these walls I've built up against you, painfully…

I won't let you.

I can't.

But these thoughts seem hopelessly futile as your thumb gently strokes my cheek and your eyes draw closer. I'm frozen, if only for a moment, unable to move or think as I feel your lips brush over mine.

You pull away for only a second, allowing just enough time for you other hand to tangle in my hair and add a bit of pressure, easing me back to connect my lips with yours again.

The walls are long gone by now, the bricks falling away; tumbling down like the rain feet from us and the tears now making their way down my cheeks. It's all coming down, now. It's all falling away and mixing together and although we have no words left on our lips of thoughts in our minds - only emotions and sensations, clashing together as though the thunder outside, I know what you're telling me, and I hope I'm saying it too because I sure as hell feel it bursting from me with wild abandon, no longer chained down as before.

The dim lighting of the room hits your face as we pull away again, seeping into the dips in your skin and blending with the dark of your hair until all that's left is the gleam in your eyes to distinguish one part of you from the next and the shadows that are falling about us.

Another flash, and you're suddenly right in front of me again, illuminated and whole, and in a rush I pull you back to me, disregarding the crash of my inkwell as it smashes to the floor or the soft flutter of my parchment and quill as they tumble away as well.

Your body is warm against mine; all I can see are your eyes, and somehow, the rain doesn't seem so confining anymore.

**-XXX-**


End file.
